


Endeavour: Return

by Parakeetist



Category: Endeavour (TV), Inspector Morse & Related Fandoms, Inspector Morse (TV)
Genre: Children, Desk officer, F/M, Home, House - Freeform, Love, Love is Strange, Mortgage, Returning Home, Snow, Social Workers, Weather, Welfare, Wilderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:07:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22682953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parakeetist/pseuds/Parakeetist
Summary: Set after series seven. The homecoming of someone who had been away for work.Warning: contains a graphic sexual incident. Hence the Teen rating.Also has a couple of lines I stole from various songs and TV shows.
Relationships: Endeavour Morse/Joan Thursday
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Endeavour: Return

Endeavour: Return  
by Parakeetist

The call came in during the afternoon. “Hello, Thames Valley Police,” said the desk officer, Devin Preston.  
  
“I’d like to request a welfare check on a person I saw walking down the side of the road. She was carrying a mattress.”  
  
“And where did this take place?”  
  
“I was riding my bike. On Turnbuckle Street.”  
  
“Let me write that down. Was there just one person?”  
  
“Yes. A woman. Black hair. Early thirties.”  
  
“What time was this?”  
  
“One-thirty.”  
  
“Did you speak to her at all?”  
  
“I called out, ‘Miss,’ but she didn’t answer.”  
  
“Very good. We will send someone out. Do you care to leave your name?”  
  
“No, thanks.”  
  
“All right. Bye now.”  
  
“Goodbye.” The caller hung up.  
  
Preston walked into the main room. It was nearly the end of shift. A detective sergeant got up from his desk.  
  
“DS Morse?” Preston said.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“For you.” Devin left the room.  
  
Morse read the note. “’Turnbuckle Street, one woman, black hair, early…’” He folded it and put it in his pocket.  
  
In the car park, he turned up the radio, and eased into traffic. The street was out in the sticks. He took a side road and headed for the place.  
  
As he progressed, the way became more and more lonely and rugged. There were seas of vegetation, and trees whose bumpy roots rambled everywhere. It was almost a swamp.  
  
Endeavour passed a sign: Turnbuckle.  
  
Then he came upon a cottage, not far from the road. He pulled over and stopped. The area immediately around the house was neatly mowed. He walked up to the window and looked in. The telly was on. He knocked on the door.  
  
“Police,” he called. “Welfare check. Someone is concerned about your safety.”  
  
The door opened, on a chain lock. The resident stepped into view.  
  
“Miss Thursday,” he said, with some surprise. “How are you?”  
  
The door closed, briefly, as she undid the lock. She opened the door all the way.  
  
“Mr. Morse,” she said. She was dressed in a light green smock.  
  
“Ah, everything all right? Someone said they saw a person - I guess that's you - carrying a mattress down the side of the road?" She nodded. "I guess you put it away?" Again, the nod. "Oh. You were on the business of the Welfare Office, correct? Did you just get home?” He looked around. “Do you own this house?”  
  
“Come in,” she said. He walked inside. She shut the door and went to an inside room. He stood there, on the wooden floor, and looked around. The room was very simply furnished. She had set up a couple of chairs, a couch, and a small oval rug. The kitchen was a rectangle, flanked by a stove, a fridge, and a small table.  
  
Morse looked down the hall. There was a bathroom on one side, and on the other, what had to be her bedroom.  
  
Joan came out of the bedroom and handed him a document. He read it. “’Deed. This instrument proves that ownership of this property has passed to… Miss Thursday.’” He handed it back. “Congratulations.”  
  
“Thank you.” She folded the paper. “Anything else, Mr. Morse?”  
  
He was puzzled. “No. Did you just call me-”  
  
“I don’t have anything to feed you.”  
  
“Really?” He walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. “Nothing.” The shelves were absolutely empty. “What were you going to do for dinner?”  
  
She shrugged. “Sleep.”  
  
“That’s not right. Get your shoes. I’ll take you out.”  
  
“But-”  
  
“No questions. I am here in my capacity as a police officer.”  
  
“Okay.” She slung her purse over her shoulder and stuck her feet into her flat shoes.  
  
…

Joan pushed the shopping cart through the supermarket. Morse picked items off the shelves and tossed them in the basket. “Peanut butter, bread, soda pop…” he recited, as he placed each item. “Prawns… what are these things? Do you like them?” He held up a packet of hot dogs. “Americans eat them. I don’t know about Americans.”  
  
“Well, I wasn’t going to eat any of _them_ tonight,” she said. He chuckled, and threw them in with the rest.  
  
When the time came, they approached the cashier. Morse passed the clerk a few pound notes. He put some of the change in the jar for charity. Joan pushed the cart into the parking lot.  
  
They put the bags away. Morse slammed the trunk shut.  
  
“Did you bring your stereo, from wherever it is you were?” Endeavour said, as he got underway.  
  
“Yeah. I have it.”  
  
“What kind of music do you like?”  
  
“Don’t you know already? Pop, rock, bit of jazz.”  
  
“Put on some rock.”  
  
“But you hate rock. You ran Fancy out of-”  
  
“Hey, now.”  
  
“All right. I’ll find something.”  
  
Some minutes later, he pulled up to her house. They put away the groceries. Joan rummaged in her carton of albums. Endeavour put some steak in a pan.  
  
“That smells lovely,” Joan said. She dropped the needle on an album of choral singing.  
  
“Is that a hint?” Morse said.  
  
“Of what?”  
  
“That you want me to go back to choir.”  
  
“No, not unless you want to.”  
  
“Well, I’m going to. So there.”  
  
“Okay.” She blinked.  
  
A little bit later, Morse put the steak on two plates, along with baked potatoes, and set them on the table in the kitchen. Miss Thursday sat down. From somewhere, Endeavour produced a candle, and lit it.  
  
“Where had I put that?” Joan said.  
  
“In a drawer.”  
  
They began to eat. Joan sang along with the choir. “Te ipermaho stratiotes, nikitiria…”  
  
“What is that?”  
  
“Greek. ‘To you, the champion leader.’”  
  
“It’s very good.”  
  
“Thank you.” She took another bite of the potato.  
  
“So, where were you, all last year?”  
  
“On the assignment for the office.”  
  
“Helping kids?”  
  
“Yes, for twelve hours a day, on average.”  
  
“Good Lord, twelve? Average? That’s more than I do.”  
  
“Well, different jobs, I guess.” She cut another piece of steak.  
  
“Did they pay you, at least?”  
  
“At the end of every month.”  
  
“Month?” He put his utensils down on the plate. “Oh my God, I’ve forgotten our drinks. Be right back.”  
  
He returned with two glasses of red wine. Morse took generous gulps. Joan barely sipped hers.  
  
“What’s the matter, you don’t like it?” he asked.  
  
“It’s a little strong.”  
  
“Oh.” He shrugged, reached out, and took her glass.  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“Too late.” He tipped up the glass and poured down the wine in a second flat. Joan sighed.  
  
The record came to its end. Joan got up to change it, but Morse said, “No, wait, please.” She nodded and took her seat again.  
  
When he had eaten a little more, Endeavour said, “Tell me. Do you think of having a family someday?”  
  
Joan’s lips twisted a little. “I’d like two, to start.”  
  
“Your own?”  
  
“Yes. Might adopt, later on.”  
  
“Married?”  
  
She blushed deeply. “Well, I suppose…”  
  
“What?”  
  
“That I hurt you. When I turned you down.”  
  
He waited, then said, “Yes.”  
  
“I wasn’t in my right mind on that day. R-r-ray had – punched me in the face. And then a few days later, when I told him – the news-” She gasped with every phrase. “He threw me down the stairs.”  
  
Endeavour’s eyes opened wide. Joan got up and dashed to the bathroom.  
  
He stared after her. Then he slumped in the chair.  
  
After a moment, he stepped to the bathroom door. “You all right in there?” he called out.  
  
“Yes.” She spoke very softly. He had to strain against the door to hear her. “I’ll be out just now.”  
  
The door popped open. She stepped out. “I’m okay.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“Yes.” She smiled and nodded.  
  
“Okay, then.” He ran a finger under his collar. “I should have called a squad car. To pick him up. On the day – you know. Though I don’t know what good it would have done. Your father got in a fight with him, earlier.”  
  
Tears welled in her eyes.  
  
“I didn’t mean to bring him up again. Ah, ah-” He looked all around him, very nervously.  
  
She bowed her head. She almost asked him to leave.  
  
Morse picked up the plates and scooped the scraps into the trash. He left the plates in the sink. Next, he flipped on the telly. Joan found a new record, one of folk songs, and then sat with him on the couch.  
  
Casually, Endeavour threw his arm across the back of the sofa. Joan hesitated to lean her neck into the crook of his elbow. He nudged her.  
  
She sighed. The show went to a commercial.  
  
“I’ve figured out,” Morse said, “that I live only a few kilometers from this place. It’s only a few turns.”  
  
“Hmm.”  
  
“If you should ever… need anything…”  
  
She waited.  
  
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to take down your, ah, your n-n-n-”  
  
Joan got up and found a notepad. She wrote down her phone number.  
  
“Thank you.” He cleared his throat and stuck the note in his wallet. “Got to remember to put that in the book when I get home.”  
  
“The little black book?”  
  
“I don’t have one of those.”  
  
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”  
  
He blushed. “The things you say.”  
  
When the commercial break ended, he turned and kissed her quickly on the ear.  
  
She drew back her head, startled. “Oh! Mr. Morse. I must correct you. That wasn’t right at all.”  
  
“Oh?”  
  
“It’s this way.”  
  
She put her fingers underneath his chin and kissed him.  
  
They both closed their eyes. The kiss went on for some time.  
  
He drew back. “Thank you for – the instruction.”  
  
“You’re welcome.”  
  
“You still haven’t told me about your time in wherever it was you went to.”  
  
“Oh. They sent me to a primary school, where they held programs. I tutored the children.”  
  
“Like you did before.”  
  
“Yes. The children were delightful. A bit hectic, but if I hadn’t been called back… it would have made a nice – career, you could say.”  
  
“Well, thank God you were brought here again.”  
  
She smiled.  
  
“Oh!” He sat up and fished something from his pocket. “When we were at the market, I got you one of these.” It was a tiny plastic tube, fitted with a cap. It must have held a toy of some sort. “You can see what it is.” With hands shaking, he passed it to her.  
  
She turned it around. “Ah! Let me get this.” She pushed her fingernails into the bottom of the cap, and popped it free.  
  
It was a plastic ring, with a figurine in a space suit stood on top of it. Joan balanced it on the tip of her finger. Morse reached out and pushed it fully on.  
  
“That’s – original, that is.” Joan turned her finger this way and that.  
  
“I was hoping it would be one of those walking squid. You throw it at the wall and it just rolls down.”  
  
“ _You_.” She put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
He stood up. “Well, I’d better go.”  
  
Endeavour stepped to the door and opened it. And immediately closed it again. There was a half-meter of snow out there. “Gads! Check the weather report, will you?”  
  
She changed the channel to the news. “And here’s our meteorologist, Van Jupiter. Take it away, Van.”  
  
“Take it to where?”  
  
“Just start the report, please.” The anchor who had made the transfer announcement smiled a smile of pure viciousness.  
  
“Right. Well, you see, this band of clouds ripped through in the last two hours. Oxford proper got fifty centimeters, Woodstock received a good forty-two…”  
  
Jupiter continued to recite the totals for each town in the area. Joan got up and shut the set off. “Well!” she said, pinching the fabric of her dress off her waist. “Maybe you should, ah, rest on the couch?”  
  
“Not a bad idea.” Morse took off his shoes. He stopped in the bathroom, and padded back to the seat. He put a couple throw pillows against the arm of the sofa, and lay down.  
  
“See you in the morning, I guess. Thanks for the food,” Joan said.  
  
“No trouble.” He wiggled his head into the pillow.  
  
Joan went to her room and changed into a nightgown. She brushed her teeth. Once done, she strolled into the bedroom.  
  
It too was simply appointed. She hadn’t had time to buy many decorations. There was a globe, which she still had from her university days. She had put up one poster, of the film ‘Greetings.’ It had a promising young American in it, Robert DeNiro. She hoped he was going places. There was a bookshelf, and a table for a lamp. Later, she’d put in a fish bowl, maybe a plant as well, to liven the place up.  
  
Thursday crawled under the sheets. She turned on her side, and drifted off.  
  
She awakened to the sound of Endeavour screaming. “Get it off me, Christ, get it off!”  
  
Thursday ran down to the living room. “What, what is it?” she said, and switched on the lamp.  
  
He was staring into the corner of the room. She looked, and saw a large black widow spider.  
  
“I swatted it off me,” he gasped. He was hyperventilating.  
  
Joan picked up one of Morse’s shoes and smashed it down on the arachnid. She brought the shoe over to the garbage bin and scraped off the debris. Lastly, she placed the shoe back where she got it.  
  
“There. That’s done.” She smiled.  
  
“Oh, God.” He put a hand on his chest. “That was close. It could have bitten me and poisoned me.”  
  
She looked at his scalp. “Doesn’t look like it made it. You’re safe.”  
  
“Really? Run your hand through my hair.”  
  
“Ah – you sure?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
She did as ordered, slowly moving her fingers through his hair. He tilted his head back and forth, ever so slightly. She found no bite marks or blood.  
  
“You’re okay.” Joan dropped her hands. “Get back to sleep.”  
  
“All right.” He breathed slowly, and swung his legs under the sheet again.  
  
“I can’t read you a story.” She grinned. He smiled as well, shut his eyes, and turned toward the wall.  
  
Joan went back to her room and shut the door. She plugged in a little nightlight, in case she had to run to the restroom at some point. She nestled under the covers.  
  
Minutes later, she heard a creak from the doorway. Light from the hallway spilled in.  
  
She sat up, and put a hand over her eyes. “Hello?”  
  
“Can I stay here?”  
  
“Morse, you can leave on the bathroom light.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
He stood there. She began to pity him. “Ah, do you want to sleep on the floor?”  
  
He shook his head, and climbed in beside her.  
  
Her eyes shot open. “Hey. Hey.”  
  
“I won’t-” He turned away from her. “Touch-” He grunted, and shut his eyes.  
  
Joan sighed. “All right. Keep that promise, you’ll be fine.” She faced the wall, and burrowed into the mattress.  
  
A moment later, he began to speak. “Miss Thursday?”  
  
She hesitated, then: “Yes?”  
  
“I’ve been thinking.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Where do you see yourself in twenty years?”  
  
“Oh, paying the mortgage on this place, white hair, the whole bit.”  
  
“Maybe a professor?”  
  
“I always thought that would be you. Can’t figure out why you’re a copper.”  
  
“I thought about quitting, a few years ago. More than once.”  
  
“Oh? I never knew.”  
  
“Yes, I only talked about it with – a friend.”  
  
“Monica?”  
  
“How did you know?”  
  
“I know you.”  
  
“You do.” He smiled. “It occurs to me that your father – may be considering retirement very soon. This year or next.”  
  
“Oh. It’d be about time, realistically. He’s worked a long time.”  
  
“True.” He wiggled back and forth in the sheets. “Mr. Strange thinks he’ll be promoted into your father’s place.”  
  
“Oh? Isn’t my Dad two ranks above?”  
  
“I meant in time.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
“Given that, I’ll have to work with somebody else.”  
  
“Oh! Who do you think?”  
  
“Maybe one of the new hires. That Cadet Lewis. He’s been keeping fit.”  
  
“Always helps.” She looked at the back of his neck. “Morse?”  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“Why are you telling me all this?”  
  
He cleared his throat. “When I asked – what I asked you-” He gulped again. “A few years ago.”  
  
“I remember.”  
  
He paused a few seconds, then sat up. “I’d better shovel the steps.”  
  
“Morse! Wait!” Joan got out of bed. “What were you going to say?” She dashed down the hall. “You’re not going out there in your underthings.”  
  
“I can put on my coat.”  
  
“You don’t have boots.”  
  
“My shoes will do fine.”  
  
“Oh, come on.”  
  
“Don’t you be bothering me now.” He began to look through her closets for a shovel. He did not find one. “Do you keep one in the garage?”  
  
“No. I didn’t buy one yet. I didn’t think it would snow this early.”  
  
He sighed. “Good point. Well, leave it for the morning, then.” He smiled briefly.  
  
Joan’s shoulders collapsed. She turned around and trudged into her room.  
  
Thursday closed the door behind her, and raised the speed of the ceiling fan. She kept it on most of the year, because she needed a cool breeze in the room.  
  
She heard the sound of Morse running the water in the bathroom. Then he walked into her room.  
  
“That… didn’t work out as well as I’d planned it.”  
  
“Mm-hmm.”  
  
He paused a good long time, then said, “My name is Endeavour.”  
  
She replied, slowly, “My name is Joan.”  
  
“Fine.” He smiled. “I’ve made a decision. A big decision.”  
  
“Go on.”  
  
“I want to stop all this bed-hopping and hoping I can make it into something more. If I’m going to have peace in my life… I have to be with someone... different.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“I’m sick of these women who only want me for a few weeks. I’m chipping away at my soul, every time.”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“I want you in my life.” He smiled, ever so faintly. “I love you.”  
  
She stared, and then got out of bed.  
  
“You mean it? Really?”  
  
He nodded.  
  
“Get dressed. I want to see if you love me with your clothes on.”  
  
He went out into the hall. Minutes later, he came back fully dressed. She had put on her dress.  
  
He stepped close to her. “I love you.” He smiled.  
  
She nodded. “I love you too.”  
  
“I think we could build a life together.”  
  
She smiled. “Oh. I’d like that.”  
  
There was a transistor radio on the desk. He switched it on, and held out his hands. “Dance.”  
  
“This late?”  
  
"All the time in the world.”  
  
The station was playing an old folk song, 'Dreadful Wind and Rain.' They both sang along.  
  
“I didn’t figure you would know a tune like this,” Thursday said.  
  
“Oh, I get around, musically. More than you’d think.”  
  
“Good to know. I have tickets to a concert, at a secondary school.”  
  
“Fine."  
  
They continued to dance. Then, Joan heard something, off in the distance. “Is that a snow truck?”  
  
“I’ll see.”  
  
They walked down the hall. Morse opened the door. They both looked out.  
  
He turned his neck in both directions. On the left, he spotted something. “It is indeed a truck.”  
  
“Good! The streets should be clear by morning.”  
  
“Eh. I’ll have to go home.”  
  
“You don’t want to? Back to your nice house, which is bigger than mine.”  
  
“Some things are more important than others.”  
  
She blushed. “You say such things.”  
  
His hand found hers. “I won’t say it until you say it first.” He nodded toward the hallway.  
  
“Let’s.”  
…  
In the bedroom, he shut the door, and began to get undressed. Joan struggled to undo her dress. “I can’t-” she said.  
  
“I’ll help,” he said. He got down to his boxers, then went to stand behind her. Joan’s shoulders shook. “Shh, you’re all right.” He kissed her on the neck.  
  
He undid the back and pulled the dress off her. She had not put back on her bra. He drew in his breath and gently turned her around.  
  
Endeavour picked her up and placed her in the bed. He got in beside her.  
  
She was still trembling. He kissed her gently. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.  
  
“I – I just-”  
  
He put a finger on her chin. “Shh,” he said, and kissed her again.  
  
He kept on kissing her, and let his hands roam over her body. He cupped her left breast and suckled it, then the other. She threw her head back and gasped.  
  
“Call me Dev,” he said. He remembered something, and hooked his thumb in the band of her underwear. He pulled down, and then removed his own, and threw both to the floor.  
  
He kissed her chest, and moved his head down. He tongued her stomach and belly button. Then he rested his head between her thighs, and inhaled.  
  
He went to work.  
  
She clenched her eyes shut and yelled. He kept going until she became light-headed.  
  
At last he moved back to waist level, and pushed his way inside her body. She gripped his shoulders and shouted. He kept going, reaching such a manic pace that she thought the bed would split in two.  
  
It seemed to go on forever.  
  
He grunted and howled. “Go on,” he growled, “make me-”  
  
She clasped her hands over his back and pushed them together.  
  
“AH!” he hollered, and collapsed against her.  
  
She turned her face away from him, and wept.  
  
He was immediately aware. “What? Did I hurt you?” His face was a mask of shock. “No, I didn’t mean to, I swear.” He turned her chin toward him. “Joanie, please tell me – I, I didn’t – oh, Jesus.”  
  
She turned away again, and crossed her arms.  
  
“Tell me I didn’t – that I didn’t assault-”  
  
She breathed in. "No, it was nothing like that. I wanted you."  
  
“I’d never hurt you, Joanie, honest.”  
  
She sat upright and climbed over him. Joan crossed to her dresser and pulled out a nightgown and clean underclothes. She walked down to the bathroom.  
  
He pulled the sheets up to his waist, and stared after her.  
…  
Some minutes later, she returned. He had pulled his boxers back on, just for the warmth. Although nothing was going to be right, until he got the answers for which he was looking.  
  
“You – smell like soap,” he said, and smiled. Her lips remained flat. “Please, tell me what happened was all right.”  
  
“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “Every bit.”  
  
“That’s a relief.” He leaned back.  
  
“You were the first I’ve been with since – since him. Since Ray.”  
  
“Jesus.” In his mind, he counted. “Four years?”  
  
She nodded.  
  
“Why did you wait that long?”  
  
“I was terrified.”  
  
“He-”  
  
“When he threw me down the stairs, he said he’d kill me if I told anyone. Especially the police.”  
  
“Oh, God.” He put his arms around her. “So that was why you said you’d slipped.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
He rocked her gently back and forth. “It’s all right. I’ll call where he lives in the morning.” He did not want to say Leamington, lest she dwell on it.  
  
“All right,” she said. He leaned his head into the crook of her shoulder.  
  
They remained that way for the rest of the night.  
…  
When he woke up, he could smell breakfast. He pulled on his tank top and went to take a shower.  
  
Morse stopped in Joan’s room and put on the rest of his clothes. He walked out to meet her.  
  
“So,” he said. She was sat at the table, and eating waffles.  
  
“Morning.”  
  
“Are you paid up through the end of this month?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Good. After that, you’re coming with me.”  
  
“I’ll have to notify the landlord.”  
  
“Do that.”  
  
She nodded.  
  
He crossed to her. She stood. He embraced her.  
  
Endeavour kissed her and smiled. He waved. She returned the gesture.  
  
He walked outside, and drove off.  
  
She put on some music.  
  
  
THE END


End file.
